


Hero

by madsydva



Series: Quiet Brave Hero Dreaming in the  Rain [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brave, Funeral, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts, Post-Season/Series 04, Sad, bagpipes, eulogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 17:39:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15690192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsydva/pseuds/madsydva
Summary: A Funeral.





	Hero

**Author's Note:**

> This is to fill the prompt ‘Brave’ for the Mystrade is our Division Facebook group.
> 
> I apologize in advance. I’m not sure what was with my muse when I came up with this but it’s horrible and wouldn’t go away. I had to write it down. If you dare to read, I hope it’s ok!

The town car slowly pulls up outside of the side entrance of the church. Mycroft sits fingering the handle of his umbrella. The partition lowers, startling him out of his thoughts.

“Sir, do you want me to stay?” 

Mycroft clears his throat. “No, Jeremy. Round the block perhaps? I’ll text when I’m ready.”

“Very good, sir.”

Mycroft sighs and grips his umbrella handle, before opening the car door and stepping out onto the pavement. 

It was beautiful day. The sky was a lovely blue with a few puffy clouds scattered heat and there. Mycroft looks at the sky wistfully before entering the church through a small door. 

The tail end of a bagpipe solo echoes through the church as Mycroft climbs a few steps that lead to the back of the sanctuary. He finds a spot and leans up against the wall. 

The church was full. Every seat was taken. Mostly by uniformed police officers. The center aisle was was lined with red and white roses on every pew. In front of the altar, a casket lies crossways, with more red and white flowers and a police helmet on top.

The bagpipe solo ends and there’s some shuffling as John Watson steps up to the podium on the altar. Near the front, Mycroft can see a dark mop of hair, taller than everyone else, duck down a little.

John clears his throat, unfolding a piece of paper before beginning. 

“First, I’d like to thank everyone for coming. Greg would have appreciated it to know that you all came.... to see him off.” John pauses a few seconds before continuing. “When the Yard asked Sherlock and I to say a few words about our time and work with Greg we were flattered but weren’t so sure. We first decided that it would be me that would do the speaking. Those of you that have had any kind of interaction with Sherlock at all, will know why.” John looks down at Sherlock giving him a small smile and a wink as soft chuckles break out across he church. 

“Sherlock, ever so eloquent, wanted you all to know that Greg, was not, in fact, an idiot.” More chuckles break out across the church. “I should tell you, that the jokes at his expense were also his idea, because “People,” and I quote “...like funny at inappropriate times.” But I won’t tell you what he said about why.” More soft chuckles.

“Sherlock and I, we have so much to thank Greg Lestrade for. Greg was Sherlock’s only friend before I came along. A sort of second Big Brother I’d say. He saved him. Helped him. Cared for him when he was at his lowest. I’m eternally grateful for that. Then Greg was there for me. He was my friend when I needed one. We would get pints when Sherlock was driving me up the wall and when he wasn’t. And then when Sherlock went away, he was my literal shoulder to cry on.” John pauses for a breath.

“Then there were the cases. “The Work”, as Sherlock says. The media gave the two of us all of the credit for the cases. Sherlock may have solved the case. But Greg was the heart. The advocate for the victims. Sometimes he just wanted the bloody thing solved.” Soft chuckles echo through the room again. Mycroft smiles softly. “But without Greg to ask for our help. Without him to advocate for Sherlock, risking his own career, putting his own ego aside, there would be no Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.”

“Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade died doing what he loved. Serving his city and protecting its people. And again he risked his life for Sherlock and I. Last week, when a suspect drew a weapon and threatened the three of us, he stepped in front of Sherlock to take the bullet. He died protecting Sherlock and I. And again, for that, I am eternally grateful.” John’s voice cracks on the last few words and he clears his throat and straightens his back.

“Even being one of Greg’s closest friends he was pretty tight lipped about his family. I’ve learned through Lt. Donavan, that his mother died when he was young and his father died when he was in the police academy. So even though he may not have close family to see him off, he has all of us. Brothers and sisters of The Yard, best friends and even people he loved.” John’s eyes find Mycroft at the back of the room, and Mycroft looks at the floor blinking back tears.

“I know he considered everyone of us his family. The city of London and her people should be thankful, to have had a person like Greg protecting them even if it was for far too short a time.” 

John steps down from the podium and “Stay Free” by The Clash starts playing over the church sound system. A wide grin spreads across Mycroft’s face and he looks down, twirling his umbrella. The song plays through and when it’s over the Vicar leads the group in prayer. Mycroft bows his head in respect and lifts his head slowly when it’s finished. From the back of the church, a piper starts to play Amazing Grace. A group of officers in full uniform, including Sally Donavan stand from the front row. They carefully lift the casket onto their shoulders and begin to make their way up the center aisle towards the front doors. Mycroft’s eyes follow the casket as they walk.

When they are halfway towards the doors, a few civilian dressed people that Mycroft doesn’t recognize make their way up the aisle, followed shortly by Sherlock, leaning heavily on John, his arm in a sling. Mrs. Hudson and Molly with Rosie in her arms follow close behind.

Sherlock spots Mycroft near the wall and gets John’s attention who helps him shuffle over.

“You came? You didn’t answer my calls... my texts...” John comments.

Mycroft nods numbly. “You look well, Brother. Better than the last I saw you.”

Sherlock looks up at him with wet, red rimmed eyes, stepping towards him. “Brother, I’m so sorry.” Mycroft backs farther against the wall, fighting off the tears that threatened to spill over. Sherlock lowers his voice. “You should have seen him, Brother. He... saved my life. He’s was so brave.”

Mycroft gives a curt nod, swallowing hard.

“You can ride with us to the graveside service if you like. The yard provided us a car.” John says.

“That’s quite all right.” Mycroft manages, straightening up a bit. “My driver is just outside.”

John opens his mouth to insist but knows better and changes his approach. “Well, if we don’t see you...The Yarders are planning a get together at The Red Lion after. But Sherlock and I think we might duck out and just go home for tea. You’re welcome to stop by.”

“Thank you, Dr. Watson.” Mycroft nods again. Sherlock and John shuffle away towards the main door.

The church is empty now and Mycroft makes his way up to the altar, where there are two large pictures of Greg on a table. One of him, very young in his police dress. His academy graduation photo. The next was a more recent photo. A headshot. He was wearing his light grey suit.

Mycroft reaches his hand up to touch the photo, his fingers brushing over Greg’s cheek. He remembered Greg complaining about the Department photo updates they were doing a few months ago. Greg had complained to him over dinner one night about how he hated having his picture taken. Not knowing what he should wear. Mycroft had laughed and told him that it was one picture and would only take a moment. He had also told him to wear what he normally wore to work everyday. But to at least straighten his tie. Mycroft smiled at the memory as a tear slipped down his cheek. He sighs as more tears spill out.

“You were brave. Always the hero. My hero.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Clash song “Stay Free” can be heard here: https://youtu.be/FuYzsrYSQx4
> 
> I felt like Greg would appreciate punk rock at his funeral. Having actually met Rupert, I feel like he would approve! 
> 
> Stay tuned for part two!


End file.
